


Apocalypse of the Heart

by furtherintofairytales



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:55:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23395117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/furtherintofairytales/pseuds/furtherintofairytales
Summary: The moment that Crowley’s eyes had met hers under the brim of his dark-tinted sunglasses, he knew he was doomed.
Relationships: Crowley (Good Omens) & Original Female Character(s), Crowley (Good Omens)/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 9





	Apocalypse of the Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This is my second fanfiction ever and I am terrified! Let me know if you like it.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own anything besides my little OC.

The moment that Crowley’s eyes had met hers under the brim of his dark-tinted sunglasses, he knew he was doomed.

She stood just within a streak of light, illuminating Aziraphale’s bookshop. Flurries of dust floated softly around her, shifting slightly as her curious blue eyes tilted her head to the side where auburn hair fell in waves around her neck.

Crowley moved to step farther into the room, eyes never leaving her figure. Unaware that his hand had not fully braced the inside doorknob, the door lay ajar allowing the cool air from outside to filter in, causing chills to slowly rise up his forearms towards his back. Aziraphale’s appearance, however, stopped him in his tracks, as his friend’s hands came to rest on the girl’s shoulders, no doubt asking her what book she had picked from his collection.

His collection? Aziraphale never allowed anyone to touch his expanse of pristinely-kept, first edition books, with more words in them than Shakespeare himself could have created. Yet, there the girl stood with an older book of red binding resting gently in her right hand. Crowley recalled that it was some volume that the angel had only recently acquired, though he hardly remembered listening to what the book actually was. Either way, he knew that it meant something to Aziraphale.

That this girl meant something to Aziraphale.

Of course she did. Always, another reminder that Crowley’s tainted hands were not meant to touch something so beautiful. Something so pure.

Crowley watched as Aziraphale made to steer the girl towards his maze-like study. A separate part of the bookshop, just past where the two stood now, amongst the newest books in the angels’s collection. A study clustered with ancient texts, and historical maps that depicted battle routes amongst teacups of various different colors and designs, some of which still had remnants of tea leaves inside. No doubt forgotten as Aziraphale ingested book after book, his thirst for literature and knowledge never quenched.

‘Funny,’ Crowley thought, ‘he doesn’t seem to be thirsting over books right now. Just the person holding one.’ He didn’t give his mind time to register that he might be doing the same exact thing.

Crowley did realize, however, that he was cold, the air from the slightly opened door now becoming apparent amongst his almost always warm skin. He gave the door a light push shut as to not draw any attention onto himself. But the girl’s attention was already turnt back on the demon. Big, blue eyes and all.

“Were you expecting anyone else this afternoon, Aza?” The question falling politely out of her mouth as she pulled on the sleeve of the angel’s perfectly-tailored, white suit.

Looking up to where his friend’s eyes were resting, Azaripahale gave a small sigh. “Bloody hell,” he began to say before catching himself with a small gasp, and a hand clamped over his mouth.

Realizing that he’d been caught, Crowley regained his composure, choosing to strut his way over to his angelic friend, his practiced smirk thrown over his face once again. 

“What are you doing here, Crowley?” The demon was given a pointed look. “I wasn’t expecting you until much later.”

“Well, for one, I didn’t think you’d be very busy, lack of friends and all.” Aziraphale swore he heard the demon grumble something under his breath akin to ‘apparently not,’ but he could have been mistaken. “Second, I thought the, ah, information I had was too important to wait. Who’s that?” He nodded over the angel’s shoulder.

“Oh, where are my manners?” Aziraphale gestured for his companion to step forward, taking up a spot beside him.

She did so with minimal hesitancy, her curiosity always getting the better of her. After all, how could she help herself? Only moments ago this leather-clad man had eased his way through Aza’s front door, looking more fit for a runway than he did for a cozy little bookstore in the corner of London. Like a snake, she decided, he came in like a snake. Quiet and smooth. Behind a locked door, nonetheless.

Aziraphale was quick to make introductions, usually never one to forget his manners. “Tessa,” he started. “This is Crow- Anthony J. Crowley. Crowley this is Tessa Jones.” Gesturing between both his friends, he didn’t miss the hints of tensity coming off both of them as they regarded each other thoughtfully. “We were actually about to start our book club meeting just before you arrived.” The angel sounded exasperated as he was sure they were already behind schedule.

Ignoring his friend, Crowley came to stand directly in front of Tessa, crowding into more of her personal space than necessary. He wasn’t sure if it was to see her uncomfortable reaction to his proximity - being a demon, afterall - or because of some distinct nagging need to be as close to her as possible. “Miss Jones,” he all but whispered, slowly reaching down to catch hold of her unoccupied hand.

“Just Tessa, please.”

“Just Tessa, then. It’s lovely to meet you.” Her name slithered off his tongue as he brought her hand close to his lips, kissing her smooth skin. She let out a low gasp, barely audible to even someone with supernatural hearing. Smirking slightly, he held her hand for a moment longer before discarding it gently at her side.

It took every muscle in Tessa’s face to force calm, her chin jutting out slightly as she lifted her gaze to meet what she thought were his eyes, behind the sunglasses that he insisted on wearing indoors. She prayed that he couldn’t see the redness in her cheeks, though she could definitely feel the heat rising on their surface. “Anthony-.”

“Crowley will do just fine, dear.”

“Crowley. Will you be joining us, today?”

“I’m afraid not. Not one for books, really.” He looked almost regretful. “Aziraphale and I’s conversation can wait til’ later, anyway. Not like it’s a matter of the end of the world or anything.” Nudging the angel with his shoulder, Crowley couldn’t help but give a small smile as Tessa giggled, taking it as a friendly gesture instead of a vital reminder.

“Ah, yes, very well, Crowley.” Aziraphale took to rubbing his shoulder where he had just been nudged, unsure of whether the demon meant to use as much force as he had. “I will see you tonight then.”

Crowley gave a short nod before turning back the way he came. His hand came to rest on the knob gently once again, pausing to allow his free hand to search his pocket for something small and shiny. Finding the item, he held it in the air, just near his head. “Key, by the way. I have one,” he winked before walking out into the chilly sunlight.

Tessa watched as he disappeared from the bookshop. Letting out a breath that she didn’t know she’d been holding in, she turned towards her friend. “Well, he’s an interesting one, isn’t he?”

“Something like that. Now,” his voice picked up volume on the last word. “What had you chosen again? Ah, yes, _Paradise Lost_. Classic.” Together, they made their way back into Aziraphale’s study, thoughts of the demon, Crowley dancing around one of their minds.


End file.
